Ave Maria
by Calamity in Motion
Summary: Enter the twins. William the Preacher and Sinful Spike. Mix with a little Pious Buffy and things are about to get hella naughty. Beware: Here lies twincest, and threesomes. Spike is on a mission to get both of them under his oh-so-talented thumb. Holla!
1. Don't Make a Fuss

**I've been really into the idea of twins for a little while now and recently started devouring any Twin!Spike fic I could find. While I don't have time to write a full on novel about this, I'm down for a short ficlet about Dominate-y Spike and Timid, This-is-wrong-but-I-like it William. Throw in some Quiet, new-to-this Buffy and we have a party. While personally if confronted with two Spikes in one room I would probably faint from excitement, I think Buff can handle herself. Not that she'll get much of a choice in the matter anyway.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The sun was setting in Sunnydale California on yet another humid day. Even without the burning rays, the people fanned themselves vigorously and complained, seeking the shelter of movie theaters and shops if only for the arctic chill of central air inside them.

Spike had found himself in the church long before that.

It wasn't that he was searching for God, in fact he found the whole subject ridiculous. He'd always found religion to be suffocating, full of rules and, completely void of fun. He didn't want to spend his life readying himself for what came after, when he couldn't even be sure there _was_ anything coming at all. Best to enjoy himself while he could. Besides, if there was a God floating out in the ether, he sure as shit wasn't going to be accepting Spike into any pearly gates.

No, men who sinned in the ways he did, were sure to find Hell.

His hands smoothed back the bleached blond hair he'd touched up just that afternoon, flipping up his trench collar around his neck. Propping one booted foot on the pew in front of him, he leaned down to light up a cigarette, winking at the old woman who gasped at him from far off in the church.

He'd been waiting for nearly two hours now for a certain priest to make his appearance. Someone who'd promised never to step foot inside his house again. Spike had decided that God's would just have to do. There was a flutter of movement behind him, the insistent whispers of others and Spike leaned back enough in his seat to look at the ones in question.

The smile that curled his lips would have rivaled that of the devil himself.

There, trying to assuage the mortified nun glaring holes into Spike's skull, was his mirror image. His doppelganger. In fact, the only difference between them seemed to be the priest's neatly combed dirty blond hair, and the silly round reading glasses he adjusted as he made his way toward his twin. Spike laughed to himself, taking another drag off his cigarette and getting ready for the fun he'd been waiting for. The fun his brother desperately needed.

William didn't approach him, not fully. Instead he stood at the corner of the pew, head down and eyes on the others. "What are you doing here, James?"

His voice was hushed yet hard and Spike gave him a wicked smile, letting curls of smoke escape from between his lips. "I heard this was the place where people come to get all _saved_."

William's frosty blue eyes narrowed, his lips thinning and he grabbed the pew. "There are 43 churches in Sunnydale alone, James, you could have gone to any of the 42 others."

Spike turned, titling his head at the priest, and gave a soft laugh. "Maybe I just wanted to stop by and see my bloody brother. Is that so terrible?"

William's eyes fell closed. He had yet to look at him, not directly, and it was beginning to get on Spike's nerves. His hand moved out, silver rings catching the soft light from the rafters above and laid it over the priest's hand.

Almost instantly, William pulled away, his gaze scanning over the few other occupants to check that the exchange hadn't been seen. Spike, gritting his teeth, put his cigarette out on the pew seat and turned to his brother.

"Not now, James." William was saying. "Please, I can't deal with this _now_."

"You're my soddin' brother." Spike shot back on an angry hiss. "It isn't wrong to touch my _brother_."

William stepped away from the pew shaking his head. "That mentality is exactly the problem with your being here." He said flatly, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "I have work to do here, James. _Please,_ just leave."

And with that the priest was gliding down the aisle and disappearing toward the silly little wooden box where he took confessions. Spike watched him the entire way feeling that all-too-failure rage bubbling up in his gut. Too long brother-dearest had been ignoring him, ignoring _them_.

College had marked the years of experimentation, before William had lost his ruddin' mind and run off to join the God-Squad. It had taken one smooth-talker of a girl by the name of Faith Lehane to convince the two into a _threesome_. She'd always had a fantasy about twins, she'd told them, and so being the randy fools they were back then, they'd agreed. Not long after, those threesomes had boiled down to just the two of them, and Faith went out seeking greener pastures, and men who wouldn't forget she was there in bed.

Then William had decided he was damned. He'd taken up prayer, and began learning the words of the bible, quoting them like song lyrics each time Spike had tried to coax him back to their old wicked ways. He wasn't a fool. He knew that William still enjoyed it, that wanker always _had_, he just couldn't justify it anymore.

_No more._

Spike slid into the aisle, making sure that the stubby little nun from before wasn't watching him. Happily unnoticed, Spike made his way to the confessional, waiting for the woman within to leave and get far enough away that he wouldn't be spotted slipping into the Priest's side.

William's eyes shot wide instantly, mouth falling open and bobbing. Spike only smiled in that devilish way he always had and pushed his brother back down into his seat when he tried to stand, closing the door behind him.

"James, what are you-"

He didn't give him the chance to speak, instead, swooping down and claiming his mouth in a rough and demanding kiss. William made a noise of protest, his hands shooting up to fend off his deviant of a brother, but the platinum blond caught his wrists and pinned them back against the inner wooden walls. The priest tried to fight him off of course, but be it his unwillingness to make enough noise to draw attention to them, or the fact that Spike had always been the stronger of the two, it was useless.

"Don't make a fuss, yeah?" he murmured, "Wouldn't want the kiddies finding out what Daddy does behind closed doors."

"Stop it." William said breathlessly. His glasses had been knocked askew and his face was warm from the blush probably turning his pale face a delicious red. Spike released one of his hands to slide William's glasses back up onto his nose. Unfortunately, his twin took this opportunity to shove him back against the opposite wall, shaking the whole confessional with him, and moved for the exit. With a grin, Spike caught him, spinning him around and pressing him up against the screen that separated both compartments.

"Damnit James!" William hissed as the other bent his arms back behind him and held them there with one hand. Then other he slipped around the preacher's waist, fingers roaming down the line of his zipper and curling around to cup him suddenly. William jumped in surprise and attempted to shift back away from the touch, but it only pressed him tightly against his twin, who chuckled into his ear.

"Watch the language, Padre."

"I don't know what is going through your head, or what kind of new drug you've found, but I want no part of this. You are going-"

There was a rustle outside the confessional and the door opened on the other side of the screen. Spike and William both went very still, watching the petit blond close the door behind her, bowing her head. Spike stepped back enough that William wasn't mashed into the screen and grinned when he tried to jerk his hands free and failed.

"Forgive me, Father, but I _think _I've sinned."

Swallowing hard, William tried his best to keep his voice level as he spoke. "You _think_, my child?"

Behind him, Spike closed his mouth over William's jaw line, slipping the stiff, white clerical collar from around his neck and slowly moving his gentle bites down to his throat.

"Well, it's a dream you see." The girl continued. "Just one dream I've been having for a while now."

"Tell me about this dream." William said, all the while, Spike's hand was moving slow circles around his cock, his teeth drawing at his throat.

"I dreamt that Id entered sexual congress with a man who was not my husband." The girl said, sounding as if the world might end. Spike resisted the urge to snicker, but was completely absorbed in his task anyway. She had no idea, he thought. _NO BLOODY IDEA_.

"And how long have you been married?" William asked, his voice was a little less even now than he probably wanted.

"Well…I'm not. Not _yet_."

Spike's finger found the first button on his twin's black slacks, and popped it open, moving for the zipper immediately after.

"So you have a fiancé, then?" William asked, turning his head and shaking out a jerky "No" that Spike chose to ignore.

"Well no." The girl cleared her throat. "I'm single."

"Then why do you believe you've sinned?"William asked, shifting to escape Spike's hand as the zipper went down and his fingers stroked up the taught flesh just beneath his navel, following the light trail of hair back down. "It is perfectly natural for a single woman in this day and age to have such dreams. I promise there's nothing **sin**-ful about it." His voice hitched when Spike's hand closed around his cock, pulling it out from his slacks and squeezed.

William turned as if to speak, unable to hold it in any longer, but Spike cranked his arms up further on his back and drew the lobe of his twin's ear between his teeth.

"_Shhh_," he breathed into his ear, "_Don't make a fuss_."

And then that bloody girl was talking again, though William hardly heard her with Spike's hand sliding slowly down the base of his shaft and back to the tip, squeezing the head just so and repeating the gesture.

"But what if these dreams…well," she cleared her throat again, "What if it isn't just one man? What if I'm laying on this bed and all of a sudden this incredibly attractive guy is in front of me, so I kind of, you know…go down on him…"

William's eyes fluttered closed a moment, his head falling back against his twin's shoulder with a look of confliction near pain. Spike kissed his jaw, kissed the hollow behind his ear, all the while working him with his hand.

"And then this other really attractive guy shows up behind me and takes my hips and then he's, like…"she coughed, "Um…well, going at it. So here I am, like some F'ed up chicken rotisserie, only I'm not disgusted or in pain or anything. It just feels good, and the longer we do it, the better it gets until I feel like I'm going to explode. But in a good way."

Spike had to bite down hard on William's shoulder to muffle his laughter at that one. His brother hissed in a breath of pain, jerking forward and inadvertently speeding the pace of Spike's hand. The girl paused, frowning down at the door in her dark little box.

"Are you alright, Father?"

William's mouth opened, gaping a few times like a beached fish. He had yet to open his eyes again and Spike was building speed with each stroke now, squeezing just hard enough to make the priest wince. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to be answering Spike cleared his throat and stepped up.

"Fine, my child. Just fine." They sounded identical, save inflection. There had always been a mischievous note to Spike's voice he could not bury. It made his lies smooth and easy, and his words wicked, bordering on sexual in most of what he said. Sometimes it was his downfall. This girl, however, didn't seem to notice.

"Well then? What do you think?" she asked innocently, "Am I going to Hell?"

He chuckled softly and shook his head, giving William's throat one more bite for good measure, "It is human nature to be curious, child." He said, "And these days, what is the harm in a little experimentation?"

William went rigid, arching forward and into Spike's hand. Knowing his brother was verging on release, he squeezed the head of his cock, extending the time before he came.

"Do you really think there's nothing wrong with me?" the girl asked hopefully, scooting to the edge of her seat.

Spike smiled, nuzzling into William's hair, "I think that you are a completely normal American woman."

"But…what if my dream-"

"Furthermore," he interrupted, "I think you won't be able to get this dream off your mind until you do something about it."

"You mean…" she sounded shocked and William scowled over at his brother who gave him a teasingly slow stroke before answering her.

"Well, that is entirely up to you. If it is something you feel you must do, then by all means. God will not bar you from his kingdom over such a _little_ thing, not if you live the rest of life by his design."

"Thank you, Father." She sighed in relief. Spike returned a kind you're welcome and began to stroke his brother again who clenched his jaw and tried very hard not to make a sound.

As the girl stepped from the confessional with a bright smile, William let out a ragged pant, closing his eyes again. Spike laughed softly against his ear, releasing his hand to turn William's head and give him a quick kiss.

"Now that we're alone again." He said, biting at William's lower lip, "Do it." He murmured, "Come for me."

William's eyes shot open the moment before he released and Spike had to kiss him to muffle the sound of it. His body shuttered, first violently, and then he was just trembling in Spike's arms. With one last kiss, making sure to lock eyes with his twin, Spike released him and sat down on the bench behind him.

"Put yourself away, _Padre_. This is a_ public_ place." He watched as the suddenly silent priest, keeping himself faced away from Spike, reached down to fix himself, cursing under him breath.

"I need…" William swallowed as he turned around; avoiding Spike's eyes again, "I have to change."

His twin chuckled, shaking his head while the priest opened the door and peeked outside, then seeing that no one was there to catch them, he hurried out and into the back rooms. Probably to scrub himself clean of all those 'nasty' things Spike had just made him feel again.

After a moment or two, Spike stood and left the confessional as well, heading down the aisle toward the front doors and lighting up another cigarette along the way. He wasn't finished with that man. Not by a long shot. Not 'til he finally admitted to himself that maybe this wasn't so crazy. When he looked at Spike dead in the eyes and didn't shrink away when he tried to touch him. Until then, it would be moment like these, where he had to force the stubborn bastard to see and still he refused.

Outside the humidity had finally begun to lift. Spike inhaled deeply on his smoke, eyes moving down the street to the bus stop where a petit blond girl sat, hands in her lap, and waiting for the bus. He paused a moment, thinking it over, then chuckled at the idea he was getting.

Sometimes it was _fantastic_ to be him.

When he approached her, the girl immediately glanced around for others, drawing back in her seat. Her fingers tightened around her tiny purple purse and she tried her best to smile for him and seem friendly.

"Hello." He said, leaning back against the plastic wall surrounding the bus stop bench. "My name is James, but you can call me Spike."

"Um…hi." She said, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear with an adorable little blush, "M-My name is Buffy."

"I like it." He smiled, reigning back on the wickedness, though he was sure some of it came through regardless. "Unique. It suits you."

That made her smile, and blush deeper. The young thing was obviously not used to flattery, though he didn't know why, the way she looked. Perky little thing like her would have had to be locked away to turn out this shy, he'd wager.

Buffy snuck a glance at him and he pretended not to notice until she cleared her throat. "You look familiar. Have I seen you at the church before?"

"I've just moved to Sunnydale actually." He said, "But you might know my brother, William. He's a priest here t the church."

"William Pratt?" she asked, "Wow, you two look-"

"Alike?" he finished, taking a drag of his cigarette, "You might say that. He's my twin."

"Twin? Wow."She smiled, eyes lighting up in excitement. "What's that like."

"Well, we've always been close," he shrugged, then turned his eyes on her and released his last drag as he spoke, "We share just about _everything_."

"Oh." She said, turning back to stare at the street. Had he not been inside that confessional he might not have known why she was suddenly blushing again. He figured however, that now was as good a time as any to get started with the plan.

"So, _Buffy_," he rolled her name around on his tongue, tasting it and knew that's she'd noticed. "Where are you headed?"

"Just home." She replied, eyeing the way his rings caught the light with a flush. "Probably to watch some TV or something."

"Mmm." He nodded, then tilted his head at her, "Or I could take you out to grab something to eat."

When she began to protest, he held up a finger, "I promise to get you home by a decent time."

"Um…" she thought a moment, unable to hold his eyes, and clutched her purse against her stomach, "Y-yes. That's sounds nice."

"Smashing," he grinned and flicked his cigarette off into the street, offering her his arm like a gentlemen. "Shall we?"

With a bashful, little smile, Buffy stood and took the offered arm following him off into the parking lot beside the church and to his black, 63 DeSoto. She seemed impressed by this and his smiled and pretended that it was a fabulous car because she was so convinced.

He didn't plan to take her home that night. Mommy Dearest would just have to sit up and worry, with images of her sweet little pious Buffy in the arms of someone as deplorable as him. He would do terrible things with this girl, and eventually, when the time was right, get her to confess to a certain fantasy. A fantasy he would be only too happy to enact with the aid of "attractive guy" number two, William.

Hail Mary, the things he could do with him after _that_…


	2. Dear God

_Ok, God. Here's the thing._

Buffy tapped restlessly on the bar top that bordered the small kitchenette, glancing again at the clock and hoping like hell it was wrong.

_It wasn't supposed to go down like that, I promise. I mean, you _know_ me. The worst thing I've ever done is slip eye drops into the wine at service that one time. It gave everyone diaria, but I was like 13! Granted, this is a little heavier than that, but can you really blame me?...Don't answer that._

She sipped at the bottled water she'd scrounged up from the fridge and tried not to think about the many ways her mother was going to kill her, just to bring her back and do it again. She was supposed to go to church, make with the praying and high-tail it home. Now it was not only the next day, but 3 PM, the _next freaking day_.

"Oh god oh god oh god…" she chanted, letting her eyes fall closed and dreaming of a world where Joyce Summers simply fell asleep, assuming her wonderful 18 year old Buffy would come home at the right time. However, knowing her mother, the woman was still pacing the front hallway, phone in hand to make yet another missing person's report on her "Precious angel".

She'd never planned on anything but dinner with the dangerously charming Spike Pratt. They'd sat in a cozy little diner by the window and talked. Well, _he'd_ talked, and she'd answered his questions because she'd been too nervous to think of topics on her own. Then had come the ride home in his bench-seated old car where they'd been stuck behind one of those trains that was like 10 miles long and the silence had started to get a little awkward, and just when she'd been thinking about how bored and uninterested he must have been, Spike had leaned over and kissed her.

It wasn't her first kiss, of course, that had gone to a dumb high-school jock named Riley Finn. He, like all boys (as her Mother told her) wanted nothing more than to lay claim on one of the few attractive virgins at Sunnydale Prep. And while she had wondered if she was doing it right, Riley Finn and everything else logical had skipped right out of her mind when Spike had given her that single, startlingly passionate, kiss. He'd asked her if she wanted to come back to his place, and her reply had been a breathy, stupid "_Ok_."

That had led to badness. First there was the initial flirting and tour of his humble apartment, in which he hung up his fantastic leather trench coat and she got her first eyeful of the large, mouth-watering arms beneath it. After that she'd somehow found herself beneath him on the torn, brown couch, bra missing and unable to convince herself that stopping was the smart option.

_So you see, it really isn't _all_ my fault._

She could just imagine the stern look she was getting from the Heavenly Father at that moment and groaned, dropping her head down onto the bar.

"Morning, luv. How'er you feelin'?"

Buffy popped up at the sound of his accented voice, and turned on the spinning stool. At the sight of him, her brain sort of fizzled out for a moment. Sans shirt, Spike was wearing his faded and abused jeans, slung low on his hips. All the taught, pale flesh of his wonderful abdomen and arms on display. He yawned, scratching his head of wild platinum hair and strolled into the kitchen to dig through the fridge.

"Good…kinda sore-ish."

"'See you helped yourself to my things." He said casually, noticing the water she'd been sipping. Feeling instantly embarrassed, she pulled her hands away from it and shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you-"

He leaned back up to look at her over the door of the fridge with a curious smile. "I'm teasing you, Buffy."

"Oh." She said, looking down at her hands on the bar, "Yeah…Sorry."

He came back from his plundering with a carton of OJ, taking a swig right from the thing and squinted at her. "You alright, luv? You seem a bit…I dunno, _jumpy_."

"No." she smiled tightly, shaking her head again, "No jumpy Buffys here, just this one. We call her cool and collected."

"That right?" he smirked, sipping at his orange juice and watching her over the top.

"Oh yeah." _Shut up shut up shut up! _"So…You're English." She propped her chin on her hand. "How does that work?"

He shrugged, "Mostly I just don't pronounce the G at the end of 'ing' words."

She laughed, "No. I meant-"

"I know what you meant." He said setting down the carton. For some reason the intensity of his icey-blue eyes was making her nervous. She felt like she was trying to impress the big-kids at school with her stuffed animal collection, and so far wasn't making the cut.

After a moment of silence, Spike moved out of the kitchen walking his fingers along the edge of the bar. Buffy watched his progress, but couldn't keep contact with his gaze anymore without hurling up more word-vomit.

"So, this is your first one. How's it going?"

"First what?" she asked with a frown as he turned her stool and stepped in between her legs, hands on either side of the bar behind her.

"Your first _morning after_." He replied, ducking his head to catch her eyes when she blushed and looked down.

"Well," she sighed, "that's a tough one."

"How so?"

"On the one hand, it's not nearly as awkward as I _thought_ it would be,"

"And the other?" he smiled, eyes flashing in a way that sent flutters through Buffy's stomach.

"I'm pretty sure my mother thinks I ran away and I've completely missed school."

He shrugged, "That's not so bad. Schools are just factories spewing out mindless automatons." When she arched a brow, he cleared his throat. "Who go on to become valued members of society. So you should go."

"I'll keep that in mind." She said, looking over at the clock on the wall and wincing.

"That bad?" Spike asked, turning her chin back to face him so he could search her expression.

"Well, classes are from 8 to 1, so…yeah."

"Guess we should get you home then." He said, not moving. His eyes lowered to her mouth then returned, smoldering the way they had last night when he'd been inside her. Another shutter passed down her spine and she took a shaky breath.

"Yeah. My mom's already gunna kill me as it is."

But he was starring at her mouth again. When she began to say something else to the effect of "Let's go" he was already leaning forward, fingers slipping up into her hair and fisting it tightly. He kissed her with possession, claiming her mouth and leaving her breathless, his tongue pushing passed her lips to find her own. Buffy melted, hands out at her sides, unable to decide where she wanted to put them. And then his free hand was on her thigh, ghosting slowly up her skirt and raising it as he went.

She tried to pull back, to tell him that she really needed to get home, but his thumb was already on her panties, pressing against her clit through the fabric and moving in a slow circle. Her words melted into a soft whimper, and Spike titled his head to watch her, kissing the corner of her mouth and smirking.

Her hands finally decided to rest on his shoulders, sliding down to his pecs when he moved in closer and hooked his arms under both her knees to lift her up onto the bar top. With a soft growl that rumbled deep in his chest, he swept away the bottles and loose clothes that had been resting on the bar, then laid Buffy out on it, climbing up to settle over her.

She sucked in a breath as he pressed the swelling bulge in his jeans between her legs, teasing her with a slow grind. His mouth found her throat, his teeth closing over the sensitive flesh there. She winced, digging her nails down into his shoulders and was met with a devilish grin when he returned to kiss her again.

"Mm..Spike?"

He kissed a trail back down her throat, and over her collarbone. "Hmm?"

"As much as I'd l-love to-ahh…um, do this…"

He continued his trail farther down, across her stomach down below her navel. His hands were on her knees, rising up and spreading her legs as he went. She looked down at him, biting hard on her lower lip and cursed softly.

"Wait, Spike-"

But he wasn't listening. Bunching her skirt up around her waist, he kissed her hip and finally his eyes lifted to meet hers. Buffy was shaking now, excited and terrified all at once. This was all new to her, and he wasn't one to take it slow, that much was clear. He saw this, recognized her fear and continued despite it.

Spike drew her cotton panties down her thighs, tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans and opened her legs again. She blushed hotly when he paused to look down at her. She couldn't read his expression, didn't know the first thing about what he was thinking, and hated it. After a long moment she opened her mouth to speak but he raised a finger and touched it to her lips, shaking his head.

"No need to be nervous, luv. Just lie back. I'll take care of you."

Buffy did as he requested, still starring down into his eyes and he never looked away from hers. Not even when he bent down, and closed his mouth over the slick flesh between her thighs, drawing his tongue right up the center. Her back arched and she bit down on her finger to muffle a startled moan. Spike repeated the motion, watching her still, and then his tongue was dipping into her, spearing her, then pausing to draw on her clit.

Her eyes squeezed shut then, her back lifting right off the bar top, though Spike held her in place easily enough.

"_Hnn_..Spike, I…._Maahh…" _The words became nonsensical and she just stopped trying, moaning loudly instead. Her hand shot down of its own volition to tangle in his messy hair, her head falling back. Her little sounds of pleasure were growing in frequency when suddenly he pulled back.

"Wha…are you..?"

Spike grinned, slow and predatory, climbing back up her body to kiss her so hard it bruised. She could taste herself on his lips, and didn't quite know what to make of it. He took her wrist, pinning it above her head while his other hand fumbled with his belt buckle.

"Did you like that, pet?" he asked against her lips, "The way I make you feel?"

"Yes." She answered quickly. She'd been so close, and now nothing! She needed him to finish, he _had_ to.

"You want me to keep going?" he asked, settling down over her. She could feel him, hard and ready against the inside of her thigh. She tried to reach down and position him in, but he caught her wrist and pinned it down with the other above her head. She squirmed, frowning up at him, and Spike chuckled.

"Tell me, Buffy," he murmured, gazing down at her. The intensity was back again making her heart race. "Tell me what you need."

"Finish," she said, lifting her hips, but he shifted just out of her reach with a smirk.

"Finish what?"

"This damnit." She snapped without meaning to. Spike kept her wrists pinned with one hand, while the other skimmed down her body to pass teasingly across her folds. She squirmed a bit more, gulping down a breath.

"You want me inside you." He said and despite being a little embarrassed by his words, she nodded. "You want me to make you come? All you have to do is ask, Buffy."

Brow furrowing she looked up at him, gasping when he drew his finger across the swollen flesh between them.

"Ask, Buffy," he said, gazing down almost coldly into her eyes.

"Spike…" his brows rose expectantly, while she searched for the right words. After another teasing stroke from his fingers, she couldn't stand it anymore and sucked in a breath for courage. "_Please_. Do it."

Spike grinned, arching a brow, "Not quite what I was looking for, but it will do, _this_ time."

Buffy's eyes fell closed again when mercifully Spike positioned himself and made the first push into her. He slid only an inch or so inside before pulling back out to start the process again, and for a moment, she wanted to kill him.

"Stop teasing me." She managed to say, frowning when Spike only laughed.

"But you get so flustered when I do. I can't help it." He rocked forward, sliding in another inch and pulling away.

Finally having had enough of it, Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down, arching up to take him in all the way. She was still a bit sore from last night, so the pressure of his size was a bit shocking at first, but when he laughed and pulled back to slide deep into her again, all she felt was the swelling pleasure of it all. His rhythm was slow at first, as always, but built quickly, until Buffy was letting out short bursts of sound from each thrust. Raising her hips to meet his and arching up against him with abandon. It wasn't long at all before she threw back her head for a hollow cry, her body shuttering around him, pulsing with her heart beat.

And still Spike continued, rocking forward and driving into her. Riding out her orgasm. She couldn't even make noises anymore, though her mouth was open. Instead, she lay there, super-sensitive and unable to beg him to stop, to show her just a little mercy because surely all this feeling was going to kill her. And then, just when she knew she couldn't take a single second more, Spike let out a low growl that rumbled from his chest into hers and slumped, for just a moment over her, breathing nearly as hard as she was. He rolled onto his back, eyes closed and hand resting on her lower belly.

"That was…oh god, that was just…"

"Bloody wonderful." He supplied. Buffy nodded.

"Yeah, it was _that_."

After a moment where they both laid on the bar enjoying those last echoes of orgasm, Spike sat up and jumped down. He took her hand and pulled her toward the edge of the bar.

"Time to wash up." He said.

"I don't know if I can-" But he just swept her up into his arms and they were moving toward the back room passed the bedroom where she'd learned she could put her feet over her head and into the bathroom.

Spike set her on the counter and moved to his shower-bath combo thing, turning on the water and testing it with the back of his hand. After he'd gotten it the way he wanted, he turned to Buffy and crooked a finger.

"Come here." He said, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument.

Buffy hopped off the counter and moved nervously to him, wringing her hands. He brushed the hair from her face and lifted her chin, gazing steadily down at her.

"Strip." Was all he said and Buffy couldn't help her little unsure frown, but did as he told her. Very soon she was naked in front of him, waiting as his eyes drank her in, taking his time to look at her. Then he pulled her close and kissed her, gentle and sweet, reminding her that he could be so, and led her under the spray of warm water.

What was meant to be a simple shower become, Spike directing her on how to wash, then helping, and then she was pressed up against the tile and washing was completely forgotten. They seemed to be caught in a loop. He couldn't stop touching her and she sure as hell wasn't going to make him.

An hour had passed when they finally stumbled from the shower and got dressed. Her in the rumbled clothed she'd had, him in black jeans and tight grey and black tee-shirt. Buffy was halfway through a giggle when he froze in the hall however, starring into the living room at…

"Oh." She said, clutching at his arm. She was_ so_ screwed.

"Bloody hell, James, I've been waiting here for nearly an…" but his words trailed off when he spotted the wide-eyed Buffy and couldn't look away.

"Father William?" she squeaked, freezing in place. Spike arched a brow, glancing between them while the priest's eyes flashed in anger and he turned to his twin.

"Can you not help yourself? Is it your calling to tarnish _everything_ you come across?"

She ducked her head, suddenly all too interested in the loose strings on her shirt. Spike grabbed the priest's arm pulled him off into the kitchen to exchange harsh whispers between one another. After a moment or two William gave an incredulous laugh.

"Absolutely not!" He snapped, "I will not contribute to this…this-"

"Oh, Will, don't be such a prat." Spike rolled his eyes, "Put yourself in her position."

Oh, to know what they were talking about, seeing as it was about her. Buffy scowled and looked over at them, momentarily meeting the priest's eyes.

"I would never _be_ in her position." He retorted, throwing his hand out toward the horrified girl. His twin's eyes narrowed then.

"Well, that's not true now is it?" The priest's mouth snapped shut, lips thinning in anger. "In fact, why don't I tell her all about that?"

"Do not threaten me James."

"Then don't be a git. Help us out. Help _her_ out."

There was a long time when no one spoke and Buffy tried her best to melt into the couch she gone to sit on. Then, pinching the bridge of his nose, beneath his glasses, Father William sighed.

"Ms. Summers?"

She kept her eyes on the floor, hand folded in her lap. "Yes Father?" her voice was soft and miserable.

"Give me your mother's cell phone number."

She looked up at him then, startled, glancing at Spike. He nodded, his devilish smile from before back in place.

"At a boy." Spike said as his disgruntled twin snatched his own cell from his pocket and opened it.

"Shut your gob." He snarled back.


End file.
